Undisclosed Desires
by sussiekitten
Summary: AU - Creatures had been roaming the streets for decades, but that didn't mean the prejudice was gone. Murtagh knew that all too well. It didn't make it hurt any less when someone called him a freak. Creature fic.
1. Exorcize the Demons from Your Past

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Eragon or anything associated with the Inheritance Cycle. Story and chapter titles are from the song "Undisclosed Desires" by Muse.

**Claimer: ** I, SussieKitten, own this plot and the story. Borrow or steal my plot, my original characters (Aksel) or story and I will report you. I also own my version of Thorn/Saphira/Shruikan/Glaedr's human appearances.

**Warnings:** Slash/Yaoi – meaning guy x guy. Swearing or strong language. Femslash/Yuri – meaning hints of girl x girl. Het – meaning hints of boy x girl. Supernatural creatures – there will be mainly elves (**immortals**), dragons (**drakes**), dwarves, vampires and werewolves (**weres**) in this. Hurt/Injuries – meaning that some people are going to get hurt. Mentions of poisoning. Mentions of ill intentions towards humans and humanoid creatures. Obvious bias against humanoid species. Politics. If any of this disturbs you, click on the "back" button. I won't tolerate any flames.

The **bold words** are how some creatures are generally referred to in this story.

**A/N** Welcome to a shiny new story! This story came to me a few months ago, absolutely at the wrong time, but it demanded to be written. I haven't finished it yet, but I have a few chapters written out, so I felt comfortable with sharing some with you guys.

This is in no way an attempt to make up for my prolonged silence. Of course it isn't. *cough*

A few notes about this story, though. This will be hints of Paolini's magic blended with mythological creatures and a bit of my own tweaking. There will be talk of mates in this one, as well as eventual mating. Also note a clear mentioning of mpreg. As per usual when we're dealing with my stories, there'll be lots and lots of angst. More importantly, there will be a lot of political shenanigans and bias against, literally, other races/species. Some of this might be sensitive or graphic. I will put it in the warning list when it's mentioned, in case someone is sensitive to especially derogatory language and actions.

I will be adding vocabulary, for when it is needed, and special notes at the end of each chapter. There are things happening behind the scenes that might clear things up. I'll be adding this. Mostly I explain dynamics, new words and, possibly, how certain biases work.

On a side note; look out for some unusual pairings. Consider _Restricted Access_ my warm-up when it came to pairings. I like to dabble around a bit; try out new things. Hopefully I won't scare you all away. Everything has its reasons; even weird pairings.

* * *

**Undisclosed Desires**

**Part One; Exorcize the Demons from Your Past**

There were days when Murtagh wondered how people had dealt with the first few years of living in a new, creature-filled world. His great-grandparents had been children when the world had changed by all sorts of creatures revealing themselves and demanding a rightful place in the world. His grandparents had been raised at the height of the prejudice against the 'half-breeds'.

Murtagh liked to believe that children of today were a bit more open-minded. Alagaësia was a different place now. The CMBRA – the Creatures and Mythological Beings' Rights Act – had finally been passed ten years ago. He knew today's society wasn't perfect, but he also knew that their generation were given a kinder view of creatures than he had been.

The cause hadn't mattered much to Murtagh. He believed in equality; always had and always would. As long as someone wasn't a murderous lunatic, he thought they deserved a chance.

His father had not been of a similar mind. Murtagh knew that was why it had hurt Morzan's pride so much when Morzan had been bitten.

Murtagh had gone over the memories many times. He remembered the reports of slaughtered animals and attacks on humans, all in their neighbourhood. He remembered staying clear of the topic with his father, not wanting to hear him rage about what he referred to as 'the scum of the earth'.

Later, when he thought back, Murtagh remembered that Morzan had been strangely quiet in those last few months of his life. The headlines and news reports hadn't upset him. It had taken an argument with their neighbour to finally shake him up.

The day of the argument had been on the day of the full moon. Murtagh had gone over there after dark, to try to square things over with their neighbour. In the process, he had prevented a murder, watched his father get shot to death and had gotten the werewolf curse.

He had been fifteen.

Now, seven years later, Murtagh had gotten his life back into order. After getting kicked out of his seventh foster home at eighteen, he had moved out of Uru'baen. He had no immediate family, no real friends to speak of. Morzan had forbidden him from forming any permanent connections.

Living on the other side of the country, working to fill up his days, Murtagh almost felt at peace. He had friends, a place to call his own. Someday soon he might even get a degree and a better job.

Most days were rough, especially those leading up to and just after the full moon, but he knew how to cope.

He told no one what he really was.

-;-

"Not this again." Nasuada sighed. "You would think we had gotten past this."

Murtagh didn't need to ask what she was referring to. He could hear the television's tinny tones even from all over across the diner. People were talking around him, but he blocked it out. Once he heard what the ruckus was about, he blocked out the TV too.

"There will always be bigots in the world," Thorn said.

"It's been a decade since the CMBRA got through."

"The Church still rattle against gay marriage, even though that's been legalised for almost twenty," Thorn countered.

Nasuada pushed her bangs out of her eyes. "It still sickens me. This new Bill doesn't seem to make it any better for the Beings out there."

Murtagh tried to stay out of the media. Really, he did. As a werewolf – or were, depending on who you talked to – it didn't matter to him that he wasn't allowed to marry outside of his 'species'. A were had one mate and one mate only. If he never met them, there was no issue if he wasn't allowed to be with them or that their joining wouldn't be recognised as anything other than a common-law marriage. Because the odds of his other half being a werewolf were slim to none, why would he even bother?

"They have their own marriages, hand-fastings or whatever it is they do or call it. A government-sanctioned marriage is just one more form to fill out," he said.

Nasuada and Thorn looked at him. Murtagh didn't as much as blink.

"Murtagh -"

"It matters a lot to me," Thorn said tightly.

"You're a Drake. You can, literally, only procreate with another Drake," Murtagh said and took another bite of his eggs. "So what if the government would be a dick about your marriage? As long as you're happy, they can go and fuck themselves."

"It matters because we won't get the same benefits as a human couple," he growled. "If one of us were to die, the same laws wouldn't apply. We would be screwed out of what's rightfully ours."

Nasuada put a hand on Thorn's shoulder. It looked impossibly small sitting there.

"Calm down, both of you," she said. Murtagh almost wanted to object. He was perfectly calm. "This is not the place or the time for this talk."

"We're not having this talk again," Thorn said and got up. He put down enough money to cover his tab and then stalked out of there before he even finished buttoning his coat.

Nasuada looked away, giving Murtagh a disappointed look.

Suddenly the eggs tasted like ash. Murtagh pushed away his plate and got up.

"Murtagh -"

He shook his head. "I'll call you later." He grabbed his jacket and left, his share lying neatly next to Thorn's.

The chill seemed impossibly deep when he left the pub. Murtagh shouldered on his jacket roughly and walked off.

-;-

Days passed without him hearing from his friends. Murtagh knew he had it coming, but it still hurt.

They felt different about the cause, he knew that. Thorn was passionate in all things. He involved himself in something more often than he didn't. Murtagh preferred to stand back and appear neutral. Even Nasuada, human as she was, was more involved than him.

This time, he wondered if he hadn't gone a little too far. Murtagh didn't have many friends. He exchanged the occasional snark with Vanir at work, but it wasn't the same. Besides, Vanir was an Immortal, as the elves called themselves. Immortals stuck to themselves.

Murtagh looked over at Vanir. The guy was talking – or more likely drawling – at a customer. He could just see the tip of the woman's pointed ears. Another Immortal, then. Vanir rarely talked to anyone unless they were a fellow Immortal, even more rarely if they were just another other Being or human.

He hid himself behind a shelf and fished out his wallet. The library was relatively quiet now, with it being so close to closing time. He could spare a few minutes.

Murtagh knew he had been lucky to land a job at the library. The CMBRA protected him from a lot of discriminations, but he, like vampires, would never be able to work in the way of food or drink. The field was still investigating how the werewolf and vampire viruses worked. Until that was determined, their species wouldn't be allowed to work in certain industries.

But not even the CMBRA had managed to protect him from the new ID cards. Ever since the creatures had come out, they had been forced to register and always be able to identify themselves. His card therefore stated his name (Murtagh Morzansson), his birthdate, his address, his species (werewolf) and his status (infected).

Murtagh hated his ID card with a fierce passion. Had he been human, the status would simply have listed any existing allergies or simply been blank.

"Are you going to stand here all day?"

Murtagh slipped the card back into his wallet and put it away. He didn't even bother replying to Vanir's snark.

He left before his co-worker could say anything else.

-;-

Murtagh walked past Thorn's building every day to work. It was large, not large enough to contain Thorn in his Drake form but larger than most buildings around it. It was an all-Being complex.

Murtagh couldn't afford even the smallest apartment in such a building. They were all sleekly designed and equipped with the latest security system and identification-locks. That alone was half of the rent. He had to make due in a Being accepted building that had seen better decades.

There was a reason his friends didn't know where he lived.

He could hear shouting even before he arrived at his floor. The elevator had never worked, not as long as he had lived there. Murtagh doubted it had worked in ages.

Mrs Hernandez, his neighbour, was screaming at her son again. Murtagh didn't have to focus his senses to know what they were arguing about. He had been witness to the same match every time her son came to visit, roughly every other weekend. Ector didn't want his mother living in a building with 'dangerous creatures that could rip her to shreds'. He didn't want to have to go through the court orders if that happened, 'her inheritance be damned'.

Mrs Hernandez, however, refused to move out even though her building had been 'overrun by filthy creatures, as she had lived there first'.

He loved his neighbours, truly. They were such a lovely bunch.

Murtagh unlocked his door and went inside. The screaming was slightly muffled, but it didn't mean squat when his senses were already sharpened. Judging from the volume, Ector was roughly fifteen minutes away from storming out. Then there would only be Mrs Hernandez, her yippy dog and her shows.

That, at least, was quieter than the screaming.

-;-

The couple in the apartment below were breaking up again. Murtagh thought they were human, but he couldn't be sure. What he did know was that they broke up every other month like clockwork. They ignored each other for roughly a week, but every weekend, without failure, they would make up again and have sex almost until dawn.

Murtagh made sure to spend most of those nights roaming the streets. The sounds wouldn't have disturbed him as much if the couple had been two men or they had been quieter. As it were, he had to listen to the woman squeal and moan theatrically while they both said the filthiest and weirdest things to each other.

No thanks.

Ignoring their yelling made him think about other things, like how he hadn't talked to his friends in a week. Murtagh knew he owed them both an apology, but he also knew that he was entitled to his own opinions.

None of this would have happened if they knew he was a werewolf, but Murtagh refused to think about that.

He would rather listen to Ms Take-It-Up-Your-Ass-You-Filthy-Pig and Mr Shut-Up-You-Stupid-Whore go at it all night long.

-;-

"There's a female at the desk for you."

Murtagh pretended to be very interested in putting Chemistry for Dummies in its rightful place. There was only one person that could be.

"Not going to say hello to your girlfriend?"

"Fuck off, Vanir."

"It's alright. I can take it from here."

Murtagh stared hard at the thick Advanced Chemistry text in his hand. He wondered what the odds were of braining himself with it.

It was just the two of them, now. Vanir hadn't even stuck around to eavesdrop. Murtagh could clearly hear him walking away.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly.

Seeing as it was the final days before the full moon, he really wasn't. Werewolves were either ridiculously healthy or sickly. Word on the street was that an infected were was more likely to be a weaker wolf than a born were. Murtagh knew it probably wasn't true, but that didn't stop him from being one of the sickly ones.

While he was healthier than a normal human, he was sicker than the average werewolf. And now, before as well as after the full moon, was when he looked the sickest.

"I'm fine." He put away the last text and turned to face her.

Nasuada had her arms crossed over her chest. Right, the chances of her believing him were slim, then.

"You look dead on your feet. Did you sleep at all last night?"

"I did, actually." If anything, he had probably slept too much.

She frowned.

Murtagh waited. Hopefully, if he didn't suddenly faint from exhaustion, she would let it go. For now.

"Why haven't you called us?" Thank God.

"I figured Thorn didn't want to hear from me until he cooled down."

"It's been a week." She put a hand on his arm. It felt impossibly warm compared to his skin, even through the fabric.

"I was a bit of a dick." He shrugged.

Nasuada gave a weak smile. "A bit, yes. But he will forgive you if you talk to him."

"We'll see."

"Murtagh." She shook her head. "Promise me you'll talk to him."

"Fine. I promise."

But that wasn't happening until next week, when the full moon was over and Murtagh was of a right mind again.

Well, as right as it could get, anyway.

-;-

The problem with transforming was that it hurt like a motherfucker. Murtagh had gotten used to acute senses. They were fine.

Bones breaking and elongating? No, that was still a bitch. Skin stretching and tearing? No, he'd rather be without that. Organs literally rearranging themselves inside of him? Fuck, _no_, _**why**_?

It wasn't too bad when the actual transformation was over. Murtagh knew he was one of the saner werewolves. He was himself when he transformed. There was no stress or external forces that make him go rogue. Most rogue werewolves were already fucked up as humans or had lost their mate for some reason or another.

As long as he stayed away from people, that would never happen to him.

The complex had several rooms in the basement where werewolves could shift. Murtagh was currently the only werewolf in the building. The room kept him contained. As long as he cleaned up after himself, he was even allowed to bring entertainment.

Entertainment always consisted of raw food for the wolf, something for his human stomach, clothes and a blanket. Sometimes he grabbed a paperback. As long as he was contained, he wouldn't even think about doing any harm.

But that didn't mean he treasured the experience. Not at all.

-;-

The full moon week was particularly rough that month. He still hadn't talked to Thorn and hadn't been able to leave the apartment at all during the three days the moon was at its fullest.

He didn't feel particularly well the third day after the full moon, but he knew he had to go to work.

He hurried past Thorn's building on the way there. He really didn't need another reminder of why his life was fucked up.

Things were remarkably slow that morning. Murtagh thanked whatever Gods were out there for the silence. Despite having put on a thicker jumper than normal, his hands were still shaking and he couldn't quite get warm. If he hadn't known any better, he would have suspected silver poisoning.

"You sure you should be at work looking like that?"

Murtagh put all his energy and then some into glaring at Vanir. It must have worked, as he visibly startled.

"With all due respect, Vanlandersson; fuck the hell off," he snapped.

Vanir looked sceptical. Well, he looked more sceptical than normal. Even the Gods had to know that Vanir had three default expressions; sceptical, annoyed and smug.

"You sure someone didn't slip you some wolfsbane?"

Murtagh visibly flinched. No, he had prepared his meals himself over the past few days. And unless someone had tempered with his cell, which he would have noticed, there was no way he could have ingested or been exposed to the plant.

But wait.

"Why would I care if anyone slipped me wolfsbane?"

"Because it's a highly toxic plant," Vanir drawled, "doubly so for someone like you."

He froze. He had told no one, _no one_, what he was. Even though he was required to state his species at job interviews so they could double-check, there was no way anyone could have looked at those records.

"What do you mean, someone like me?" That wasn't his voice. That wasn't _panic _in his voice.

"Oh, please." Vanir rolled his eyes. "This is clearly not your first choice of job as you appear to be educated enough for other type of work, which means you are exposed to prejudice. The most likely prejudice, though there are others, would be that you aren't fully human. If you add in that you look like hell around every full moon, it takes no genius to connect the dots."

He was going to puke.

"I'm surprised you've hid it this long. Although, judging by the look on your face, I would guess you've made sure to be scarce around your friends until you look presentable again. Well," he looked Murtagh up and down, "more presentable."

And suddenly he didn't feel as sick anymore. Well, he didn't _just_ feel sick.

"I'm going to murder you," he growled.

"Well, at least you look like yourself now." Vanir fished out his wallet and pulled out a card. He shoved it into Murtagh's palm. "You should see a Witch, just in case. This woman is good, though a bloody menace. I suppose she's earned the right to be."

Murtagh blinked at him.

"Nice chat. We should do this more often."

And just like that, he was gone.

-;-

Murtagh hadn't meant to go. He didn't know Vanir at all. They hadn't worked together long. If he recognised Murtagh as a fellow Being, then he probably wasn't trying to troll him. Probably.

But he still hadn't meant to actually go to the witch's shop.

Murtagh fixed his statement as soon as he entered the store. The wind-chime over the door said 'wiccan', not 'witch'. Any Being worth his salt knew the difference. 'Wiccan' meant healing and spiritual guidance. 'Witch' meant spells and the occasional darker magic.

He let the sights, sounds and smells wash over him. There was a scent of lavender lingering in the air, just bordering on overpowering. He could see concoctions, labelled jars, odd items and spellcraft on the shelves. He felt a tingle of warding magic when he took another step into the room.

The store itself was empty. There was no one behind the register, though he could see a dark doorway shadowed by strands of beads.

He discovered the source of the lavender on the register. The bowl of incense was still smoking gently.

"Welcome to Angela's shop."

The beads tinkled softly as a woman stepped out from the adjoining room. Even if she hadn't identified herself, Murtagh would have placed her as the owner. She carried a lumpy pouch in her belt, strings drawn just tight enough that Murtagh couldn't smell its content. He recognised the protection charms on her necklaces, the healing and spirit runes on her wrists.

"How can Angela be of help?"

Murtagh fisted his hands in his pockets, trying to pull the sweater tighter against his skin. He still felt just a touch too cold.

"Vanir recommended you."

Angela barked a laugh. "Either he doesn't like you or he ran out of options."

Comforting, he thought.

"Probably the first one."

Angela grew serious. She stepped out from behind the counter and looked at him from head to toe. "Were, bitten less than a decade ago. You're having trouble sleeping or resting properly."

There was something nagging at the back of his mind, but he pushed it back. "How did you know?"

"I make it my business to know these things." She crossed her arms and did another sweeping glance. "Also, Sol told me all I needed to know."

"Sol?"

There was a hiss from the debts of the shop.

Angela smirked. "My familiar. He never did like my were customers."

Familiars never did. A familiar, no matter if it was partnered with a wiccan or witch, was usually feline, and a were was always a wolf.

"Has your scar been aching?"

Murtagh shook his head. "No. But I do feel weaker and can't get warm."

"Were you bitten or scratched?"

He blinked. "Does that matter?"

She crocked an eyebrow.

Well, that told him everything he needed to know. Not. "Scratched."

Morzan had taken a long swing at him that night. His lower back had a long scar almost across the entire width of his frame. It was just high enough that his preferred pants wouldn't cover it. The few people he had slept with hadn't seen his back; he'd made sure of that.

"Have you eaten anything suspicious since you noticed these symptoms?"

"No. It happened right after the full moon. I would have smelled it if anyone tried to poison me."

Angela pursed her lips. "Come with me."

She led him back to her back room. The hissing got louder when he entered the room.

"Solembum, behave," she said firmly.

The hissing stopped, but Murtagh could still smell the familiar. He, as it was definitely a male, was still in the room.

Angela sat down at the round table in the middle of the room. There was no crystal ball there, though Murtagh had almost expected one. There was, however, a shallow bowl and three stacks of cards. There was also a teapot, two cups and a board of some sort in the middle of the table.

"Take a seat."

Murtagh did, watching as she put away the board and the bowl, but left the rest. She pulled out a mortar and several herbs from the shelves surrounding them. Angela did everything precisely. She didn't fetch a measurer of any sort. Murtagh could tell she had done this enough times to have the moves memorized.

After adding a pinch or so of every herb, she poured in some water from the tap in the room. She stirred it until Murtagh could smell all the herbs combining into something else entirely.

"Give me a finger on your non-dominant hand."

Murtagh held out his right hand.

Angela was quick as lighting. He didn't have a chance to react before she nicked the pad of his middle finger with a ceremonial dagger.

"Motherf-" He cut himself off.

She gave him an amused look. She grabbed his hand and let three drops fall into the mixture.

"There are bandages by the tap. Feel free to grab one."

Murtagh walked past her to grab one. He felt the familiar more strongly now, but the feline didn't hiss at him again.

He walked back to the table, band-aid in place, and tried to guess what she was thinking. Her eyes were downcast, hidden by the heavy curls of her hair.

"There are no toxins in your blood," she said and looked at him. "Your symptoms are being caused by something that belongs in your body."

"Great. You're saying I have cancer or something."

"No." Her voice was firm. "Lycanthropy makes you immune to diseases much in the same way as vampirism. It is more likely that it's the lycanthropy that is causing all this."

"How? I've lived with this for seven years."

"I've seen this in weres that were infected in their childhood." Angela carried the mortar over to the sink and rinsed it. "How old were you when it happened?"

Murtagh looked away, but there was little else to focus on in the room. "Fifteen."

"The human body generally stops growing when the host is at eighteen to twenty years of age." Angela returned without the mortar, drying her hands on a towel. "Lycanthropes age at a slower rate than normal humans. It would explain why this is happening to you now."

"What do you mean?"

"While the body is growing, the lycanthrope virus grows to adapt to the body. A larger body needs a larger quantity of lycanthropy cells to sustain the wolf. When your body stops growing, the virus isn't used to the new pace yet. It will continue to multiply until your body gets it under control, or you succumb to it."

Suddenly he was having trouble breathing. "So I can die from this?"

Angela scoffed. "You could get run over tomorrow. Simply breathing means that you're slowly dying. Death is a part of life; get used to it."

Murtagh clenched his jaw.

She clicked her tongue. "Yes, it could kill or severely mentally impair you. If your father had lived he would have been fined, if not sent to prison. There is a harsh sentence for forcing the bite a minor, much more so than an adult. You yourself are experiencing why."

"An adult has a greater chance of survival," he said to himself. "Great. So I should just start writing up my will, then."

She crocked an eyebrow. "Do you have a mate yet?"

"No."

"You should consider looking, then." She grabbed one of the decks and started to shuffle the cards. "A mate is someone who can look after both you and the wolf."

"Or I'd just leave them behind when my mind breaks or I die."

She flashed a quick smirk. "Your mind could break entirely, the wolf could take over, or you could die. Or you could live and it's all thanks to the person standing beside you."

Murtagh crossed his arms over his chest. "No thanks."

"Don't hack it till you try it, kid." She started laying out the cards. "There's an herbal tea you should try to boost your immune system. It's right behind the counter, second shelf from the top. Blue box. Leave the money on the counter before you go."

"And why should I get it?"

She looked at him through her bangs. "Because you don't want to die."

Murtagh left before she could say anything else.

If he grabbed a box and left her a tenner, well, then it was just a coincidence.

* * *

**A/N** And that was the first chapter. I currently have 2 more finished, and hopefully quite a few plot bunnies lying in wait. I know how to make this story work; I just need to write it.

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. There is more to come.

Before I go, have a few notes about the story and its background. Beware; it can be quite a mouthful.

This universe is very "realistic" in that I'm addressing prejudice against species and political BS that is relevant when it comes to creatures and magical beings. Relevant creatures are werewolves, vampires, elves, dragons and witches/warlocks.

**Special Author Notes: **

_Vanir Vanlandersson_ - In this world, female elves take the name of their mother while male elves take the name of their father. As Vanir's father is unknown, I dug a little into Norse mythology and tried to find a name. I focused on Vanes, a group of gods that existed in Norse mythology, because "Vanes" or "Vane" can be written in several ways, one of them which is "Vanir". Vanlander is adapted from Vanlandi. Vandlandi is said to be the son of a king and a Vane.

_The theory of bitten versus born, werewolf edition_ – What Angela says in this chapter says it all, but I'll repeat it in case someone has questions. A bitten werewolf will always be weaker than a born werewolf, as their bodies have had to fight against the infection (the lycanthropy virus). A born werewolf will never have these problems. Sometimes, especially if someone very young is bitten, the body has to fight so hard that the werewolf manages to pull through only due to something of a small miracle. Death because of too much strain on the body is an unfortunatly common event when it comes to lycanthropy.

_ID cards_ – These are mandatory. They will always state your name, your birthdate, your species and any afflictions you might be exposed to. With a human it would be a rare blood-type, a long-lasting disease or an allergy. With werewolves or vampires, it will state whether or not the individual was born this way or has been bitten later in life.

**Prejudice against werewolves;** werewolves are considered very dangerous. They can't work with food or drink because they don't know if the werewolf "virus" could spread through food. They can only live in "creature sanctioned" building; aka buildings that are equipped to handle a werewolf transformation. They have to go into special cells and transform there every full moon. They are only allowed to marry other werewolves. Marriages with another "species" would be considered invalid in the eyes of the government. Because of this, a lot of benefits married couples get aren't available to inter-species couples. To explain it simply, it's the same as married vs. couples living together without being married (cohabitation).

**Prejudice against vampires; **it's asically the same as werewolves. The building thing here is because vampires can go rogue and kill people, much in the same way as werewolves could. So they need reinforced walls in their apartments so that they can't break out if they have an episode.

**Prejudice against immortals/elves;** elves can work in whatever profession they wish. Their species is probably the one that is the least frowned upon, which is funny since most witches and warlocks are human. Generally they are seen as snobby and antisocial. They rarely, if ever, marry outside of their own species, so they aren't bothered by the marriage law. A lot of the prejudice with elves actually comes from within, as elves that marry and have children with, say, humans, are seen as less than an elf that marries another elf. They are usually shunned from the rest of the community.

**Prejudice against drakes;** drakes are also required to live in specially sanctioned buildings, because of their dragon form. Because they can only marry and procreate with other drakes, they don't have as much prejudice against them as other creatures. On the other hand, they are seen as very animalistic and people have questioned if they should be considered a humanoid race at all.

**Prejudice against witches/warlocks;** because of their magic, there are a lot of jobs those with magic can't have. They can't work in the government, in the police, in law or politics in general. This is because "normal people" are afraid that they will use their magic to influence others into doing what they want, not what is right. Usually witches/wiccans and warlocks/wizards ends up in the medical circle or selling products related to or made with their magic. The former is allowed as long as it is government sanctioned.


	2. You've Suffered

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Eragon or anything associated with the Inheritance Cycle. Story and chapter titles are from the song "Undisclosed Desires" by Muse.

**Claimer: ** I, SussieKitten, own this plot and the story. Borrow or steal my plot, my original characters (Aksel) or story and I will report you. I also own my version of Thorn/Saphira/Shruikan/Glaedr's human appearances.

**Warnings:** Slash/Yaoi – meaning guy x guy. Swearing or strong language. Femslash/Yuri – meaning hints of girl x girl. Het – meaning hints of boy x girl. Supernatural creatures – there will be mainly elves (immortals), dragons (drakes), dwarves, vampires and werewolves (weres) in this. **Mentions of ill intentions towards humans and humanoid creatures. Obvious bias against humanoid species.** Politics. Mentioned Mpreg – meaning male pregnancy people! If any of this disturbs you, click on the "back" button. I won't tolerate any flames.

**A/N** A huge thanks to everyone who reviewed and to those that still reads this story. It means a lot to know that you guys haven't given up on it yet. I would also like to thank the guest reviewers, whom I can't thank in person. :)

I really don't know what to say, you guys. I have no real explanation for the continuous long wait between chapters. I can only say this: My summer was nothing short of hellish, my autumn even more so, and I'm not even taking any classes this year. What the actual fuck.

I haven't written much either, but that does not mean I'm stopping. Fuck no. But it does mean that I'm churning out chapters at a slower rate. So just bear with me and I'll complete things, I promise.

I did struggle a bit with this chapter, but I don't think it's gonna get much better. At least it's not chapter 3. :shudder: Chapter 3 was a nightmare.

I want to thank everyone for their support and patience with, well, me. I love every single one of you guys, even if it takes me forever to update and reply to you all.

Without further ado, here's chapter two.

Also, please, beware the warnings, all right? This is a very mature story, not just because it'll have sex in some far-off future. People can be dicks, and I bring that up here. So beware that. (See the warnings for more.)

**Self-beta'ed, so beware that too.**

* * *

**Undisclosed Desires**

**Part Two; You've Suffered**

"You look like death warmed over. Twice," Vanir noted the next day. "An improvement, for sure."

"Fuck off."

"Did you go to see her?"

Murtagh shot him a look. "What is up with the sudden interest in my wellbeing?"

He shrugged, noncommittal. He was back to looking bored again. "You're the least boring co-worker I have."

Murtagh recognised a backhanded compliment when he heard one. That didn't mean he had to answer.

"My health is my business," he said, gripping the cart tighter. His grip eased once something caught his eye. "Anyway, I think your stalker is back."

Vanir looked back over his shoulder. The overhead light bounced off his glasses and made him unable to see Vanir's eyes, but Murtagh didn't need to see them to gauge his reaction. The set of his mouth spoke volumes.

"It seems I will be cataloguing in the archaeology section again," he said dully.

Murtagh almost felt like grinning. Misery loved company, and it was always fun to see Vanir struggle to keep his admirer at a distance.

"Be careful. I nearly caught a couple fucking the last time I was there."

Vanir sent him a sour look.

Murtagh flashed him a quick smirk.

His mouth tightened just enough to let Murtagh know Vanir was definitely not amused. He pushed up his glasses and stalked off in the other direction.

Murtagh lowered his gaze and let out a soft laugh. He grabbed the first book in the cart and put it back where it belonged.

The kid wasn't really stalking Vanir, Murtagh knew that. He was just admiring Vanir from afar, Gods only knew why. Today, like the other days Murtagh had seen him, he was sitting with his entourage. And while his job forced him to stay within eyesight of their table, he had made a point of not listening in to their chatter.

He might have been cursed with heightened senses, but that didn't mean he had to make use of them.

-;-

Murtagh walked into Thorn completely by mistake. His coat was just open enough to show the leather-bound scaled vest Murtagh knew Thorn wore to the pride meets. The red dye was in different shades, just like Thorn's hair and eyes.

"Murtagh."

He tried not to react to Thorn's indifferent voice, but it was hard. He had never heard it directed at him before.

"Thorn," he countered, keeping his voice gentler. He was too tired to return fire with fire.

Thorn shifted. One hand came up and zipped up the rest of his collar.

He snorted. "I'm not a speciesist, Thorn," he said, harsher than he'd meant. "I work with a vampire and an Immortal. I didn't even bat an eye when you told me you were a Drake. My father was turned into a were when I was a teenager, for fucks sake!"

There was a familiar frown on Thorn's face.

Murtagh swallowed around his closing argument. "I don't care if anyone is this way or that way. I think the prejudice is bloody unfair, but I don't spend every day telling people that. I'm tired enough as it is."

"What happened to you?"

Murtagh laughed, almost answered _the full moon_ before he caught himself.

"Food poisoning." The lie fell off his lips easily, as lies always did.

"Nas said you looked haggard a week ago." He crossed his arms. "You don't look that much better now."

"I had a cold last week."

The frown deepened. Thorn wasn't buying it, then. Right.

It wasn't that Murtagh was a speciesist. It really wasn't. Murtagh hated his father because the man had been a bastard, not because Morzan had been a werewolf and had infected him. He hated himself because he never stood up for anything. The fact that he was a werewolf was only a coincidence, just another chip in the armour.

"I feel like you're hiding something from us, Murtagh."

"I'm not." He wasn't. He really wasn't. No one had asked him if he was a werewolf. If he pretended hard enough, he could make himself believe he'd answer truthfully if anyone asked him outright.

Thorn shook his head. "Lunch on Wednesday?"

He almost wanted to sigh in relief. "One o'clock, Nasuada's place?"

Thorn nodded. He visibly hesitated, but Murtagh was relieved when he didn't say anything else.

-;-

Personally, Murtagh hadn't made much use of the library when he had been a student. He liked silence when he was studying and, even if it was a library, a college library was rarely quiet. There were always someone there, talking to each other in low voices or tinny music sounding from MP3-players. With Murtagh's senses it was almost as loud as if they had all been sitting right beside him, shouting.

Murtagh did like working there, to a slight degree. It was a steady income, he had a worker's discount on the café on the top floor and, overall, few people bothered him unless he was stuck behind the counter. He made sure to volunteer for putting back books just for that reason.

The cart seemed a little lighter that day. Murtagh blamed the tea, as it had been much heavier the week before. Maybe he wasn't entirely doomed after all.

His eyes wandered and settled briefly on one particular table. It was in a corner of the library that overlooked the rest of it. It was in the shadow of the upper floor, close enough to the staircase that few bothered to sit there. The location allowed its occupants to see the front doors and the check-out desk.

It was occupied at least twice a week by the same people, which explained Vanir's absence. He tended fuck off somewhere whenever his 'stalker' stopped by.

He was, blissfully, too far away to hear them. He could hear another table, full of girls, chattering away about boys, but he knew how to block them out. Chatter like that went in one ear and out the other.

Whenever he walked past that particular table, he always caught some strands of conversation and they always_ stuck with him_. Even when they talked about typical things, they didn't do it in a typical way. The taller male, Vanir's stalker, was overly dramatic about everything. The other male, just a few inches taller than the girl, was sarcastic and very prone to blushing. The girl was quick to laugh and even quicker to tease her friends.

He walked past by their table later, once the cart was empty. His sensitive ears picked up parts of their conversation as he passed.

"- at least grab a study room from now on," the girl said. She was petite and slim. The headscarf she was wearing didn't hide the fact that her hair was blue. The scarf seemed to have been picked out to enhance her hair rather than hide it.

"But there's always people in 'em, so why bother lookin'?" the 'stalker' said, a slight whine in his voice.

"And besides, he wouldn't be able to stare at his one true love if we went to a room," the other boy drawled. "Honestly, Aksel. You could at least be subtle about it."

"What is that word? I don't know what that means." Judging from who had responded, it appeared that Aksel was the 'stalker'.

"Clearly," the girl said and smirked.

Murtagh returned the cart to the backroom. There was another one waiting for him. He would have taken care of the backload the day before, but hadn't had the strength.

The trio was still chatting when he walked past them again.

"- could have chosen someone a little more attainable?" the other boy asked. "I mean -"

"I know what'cha mean, Aggie," Aksel said and sighed tragically. Yes, _tragically_. If this guy was a drama major, Murtagh wouldn't be surprised. "But I can't help it. He's just so..._pretty_."

The girl laughed. "Don't let him hear you say that."

The guy wrinkled his nose. "And I can't say I see where you get pretty from."

"He's got all you go after, Aggie," Aksel said and blinked hugely at him. "He's tall, dark and effin' handsome. I think you need glasses."

"I do not! On either account!" the boy said. Murtagh wasn't sure if his name was actually Aggie or if it was a nickname. "Maybe I just don't find Immortals handsome." He blanched. "Err, no offense."

Aksel waved a hand dismissively. "None taken, dude. More for me, then!"

The girl rolled her eyes. "Pretty sure he was talking about you, not your object of affection."

Aksel fluttered his eyelashes at the other guy. "I know Aggie loves me deep down."

"I do not!"

Murtagh paused. He looked down at the copy of 'Pride and Prejudice' in his hand. He put it in its place before checking on the trio. He focused on the Aksel character.

Once he was looking for them, he instantly saw the differences between Aksel and his friend. There was a slight tip on his otherwise human ears. His face was slimmer and longer, his mouth a little wider. He displayed some characteristics that the Immortals had, but they were definitely not dominant.

A half-breed, then. No wonder Vanir hadn't seen it. Children born of humans and Immortals were rare. The Immortals usually shunned those of their kind that mated with humans. Murtagh didn't listen too much to the chatter, but he had caught something about 'diluting the purity of their breed'.

Of all the supernatural creatures he knew of, Murtagh would give Immortals the medal for being the most pompous. If anything, Murtagh often thought they were speciesists in their own way. There was nothing wrong with mingling with or marrying humans. So what if their kids weren't quite one way or the other? The children were quite capable of having children of their own. It wasn't like mixing the blood harmed them any.

"Is that why you haven't talked to him yet?" the girl asked softly, some minutes later. "Because of your mother?"

Aksel didn't answer right away. "Nah. I'm just bein' shy."

Murtagh wanted to snort. He could smell the lie from halfway across the room.

"Eragon and I both know that's not true," she said, gesturing at herself and the boy beside her. "We don't judge you. Why should he?"

"Cos Immortals are weird, man," Aksel said and rubbed the back of his head. "Don't get me wrong, Saph, it's awesome that you guys are so nice 'bout it, but not everyone's gonna be. I've come to terms with it."

The girl, Saph or whatever her full name was, scoffed. "I'm glad your mom raised you. I can't imagine what you would have been like if your father had raised you."

"Aksel being proper? Nope, I can't imagine it either," the other boy, Eragon, shot in.

The girl giggled.

"You guys," Aksel whined.

Murtagh put away the last book and looked down at his empty cart. He had eavesdropped long enough.

He walked past Vanir on the way to the backroom. If he looked a little harder at his co-worker, well, then it was just because Vanir was in his way.

-;-

Nasuada beamed at them when they showed up at her door the following week. Murtagh sometimes wondered if she wasn't too worried about them. There had to be others she could worry about.

"How did the meet go?" Nasuada asked as she stirred her tea.

Things had been pleasant and not too personal up to that point. Murtagh was curious himself, mainly because Drakes and Immortals, as well as Dwarves, were the species that really didn't care about human laws. They had their own rules and customs that they followed. It was rare that humans or other species were privy to what went on in their cultures, though they had started to open up more in the past decade.

It was still weird for Murtagh to think of Thorn's human shape as just one of two, that there were times when he shifted into a great red dragon and took to the skies with his tribe.

"They've finally set a date for the mate trials," he said nonchalantly. There was only a slight tremor in his hand that betrayed him.

Nasuada smiled. "How exciting."

Thorn took a long sip of his cup. "I suppose."

She frowned. "Aren't you excited about finally getting a mate?"

He licked his lips. "I'm mostly nervous. There aren't a lot of us, and some have stubbornly stayed single for years already. This is my first round."

Murtagh almost always forgot that Thorn was younger than him. He had only turned twenty-one some months ago. He still remembered Thorn coming back from the ceremony with his tribe, the beta tattoo still bleeding between his shoulder-blades.

"But because you're a beta, aren't there more for you to choose from?"

Thorn sighed and put down his cup. "It's not that easy. Because I'm not strictly dominant or submissive, it means that I need to pick a side or have one picked for me. The dominant part must show that they're interested, but it is up to the submissive part to actually initiate the wish to fly."

"What does the competition look like?" Murtagh asked, just breathing in his herbal tea for now. It was still too warm to drink.

Thorn flashed a slight grin; there and gone in a second. "Glaedr, Umaroth and Shruikan are alphas, but a lot older than the rest of us. Fírnen and Cuaroc are betas, like me. Saphira and Mirmel are omegas."

Something tickled in the back of his mind, but Murtagh pushed it aside. "And that told us everything we need to know, thank you."

Nasuada rolled her eyes and put a bagel on his plate. "Eat something, would you?" her voice soft, yet firm. "And I think what Murtagh means is -"

"You have no idea who they are. Yes, I know." Thorn grabbed the bagel before Murtagh could.

"Thorn!"

"You know he wasn't going to eat it."

Murtagh grabbed a piece of toast instead.

"See?" Thorn said around the bagel.

She scoffed.

"So, what do they look like?" Murtagh asked.

Thorn sighed. "It isn't the colour of their scales that we care about, but I suppose I could tell you." He shifted, took another bite out of the bagel. "Glaedr is gold, Umaroth is white, Shruikan is black, Fírnen is green, Cuaroc is purple, Saphira is blue and Mirmel is brown. Saphira and Mirmel are the only females."

"Not going to tell us whether or not they're bigger or smaller than you?" he drawled.

Thorn rolled his eyes.

Something struck him then. Saphira. Blue.

"I think I've seen Saphira, actually."

Thorn blinked, cup halfway up to his mouth. "Huh?"

"At the library," Murtagh clarified. "She had blue hair and her friend called her Saph. I'm just assuming, but it would be a hell of a coincidence if it wasn't the same girl."

"Huh," Thorn repeated. "Small world."

Nasuada pursed her lips.

Murtagh braced himself. "I know that look. What now?"

She shook her head. "You rarely pay attention to people. What made her special?"

"She was accompanying Vanir's pseudo-stalker. Funny story, actually." Murtagh sipped his tea and felt it clear his senses. Angela's brand made him feel just a little bit calmer, if nothing else. "Apparently the guy is half Immortal."

She gasped. "No way."

He smirked. "Way. He and his friends talked about it. The kid is afraid to talk to Vanir because he's sure Vanir's going to be a right douche about his heritage. Can't say I blame him."

"But he's still 'stalking' the guy?" Thorn asked, disbelief loud in his voice.

"Apparently he thinks Vanir's pretty." Murtagh snorted. "Don't ask me what he's smoking on his free time."

Nasuada smacked his shoulder. Murtagh was glad he had put the cup down. He hated getting hot water dumped in his crotch.

Not that it had happened before, of course. It was just the thought of it.

...Alright, so it had happened _once_. But the fucker had deserved the lashing, even if his girlfriend had dumped her overly-sweetened foamy coffee in Murtagh's lap afterwards.

-;-

Murtagh found himself watching the trio the next time they showed up at the library. They were at their usual table, talking more than actually studying.

Aksel was gesturing animatedly with his hands. He seemed like a fairly tactile person. If he wasn't touching something or someone, he was gesturing animatedly. As Murtagh watched, he tugged down a few strands from his haphazardly styled hair and stroked at it.

Murtagh was too far away to hear what they were saying, but Eragon and 'Saph' – who could be the Saphira Thorn spoke of – were quick to shake their heads and most likely reply negatively.

Aksel pouted and gestured some more, which looked more like flailing than anything tangible.

The boy covered his face with his hands and shook his head firmly.

The girl laughed, just loudly enough for Murtagh to hear.

Aksel responded with pointing at 'Saph' and then at his own hair. While Eragon was answering, one hand gesturing in a more controlled version of Aksel's flailing, Aksel had leaned across the table to get at 'Saph'. He petted the hair and looked at Eragon, full-on pouting.

Judging by the set of the girl's shoulders, she was laughing again.

He envied them. They were clearly comfortable with each other. Judging by what he had heard, they knew each other's intimate secrets.

It was his own fault that he didn't have that. Murtagh knew that.

It didn't change the fact that he was never going to voluntarily change it. He deserved no less.

-;-

Somehow the couple and Mrs Hernandez's son managed to start up at the same time. While Ector screamed at his mother in rapid Spanish, the woman squealed at her lover to 'go harder yes YES RIGHT THERE OH GOD!'. It was almost comical to listen to, especially when Ector spat out a filthy phrase and the woman moaned theatrically, almost in response.

But there was only so much Murtagh could take. Mrs Hernandez hadn't turned off her TV, and even her dog was yipping away while she shouted hoarsely back. It was too much. He was taking his Sunday walk early.

Murtagh was zipping up his jacket when Mrs Hernandez's door slammed open. He yanked his hand away from the doorknob and hurried down the hallway.

Ector was leaving early. Murtagh hadn't expected him to storm out for at least another half-hour. He could hear Ector calling his mother something Murtagh doubted was very flattering or even nice.

Then it happened.

"Oi! Oi you, hijo de puta!"

Murtagh didn't even stop. Even if Ector was somehow, for some reason, talking to him, he was not stopping.

"Oi, espera!"

Murtagh was at the bottom of the stairs when he heard someone storm down after him. He had never personally seen Ector, but the squeaking from the staircase told Murtagh he was probably heavier.

"Puta madre, I told you to stop!"

He was almost onto the street when Ector grabbed his arm and pulled.

It wasn't often Murtagh felt the wolf rear its head. It was mostly dormant. If it hadn't been for the heightened senses - which he barely noticed these days - and transforming every month, he could have easily forgotten that he was a werewolf.

It took a lot of emotion to bring out the wolf. This time, it was fear.

"I'm talking to you, mierda cara!" Ector spat down at him.

Ector was tall, Murtagh noticed. He was almost as tall as Thorn. He was almost handsome, would have been too if it hadn't been for the slightly too large nose and the hate in his eyes.

He sneered. "So, you're the perro-follando next-door to mamá."

"Get your hand off me."

"Or you're going to do what, culo?" Ector laughed. "Attack me? I'll have you put down like the perro you are."

Murtagh had taken Spanish in high school. He remembered enough to know what Ector was calling him. It was almost enough for him to lose control of the wolf.

"I have done you nothing; I have done nothing to your mother." Murtagh tore his arm out of Ector's grip. He took back his earlier statement; Ector was uglier than the devil. "Leave me alone before I report you for harassment."

"I should be reporting you, culo! You keep the whole building up with your howling!"

"Last time I checked, I was allowed to do that," Murtagh said and felt his eyes flash.

Ector took a step back.

Murtagh understood why. He had seen the yellow flash in his father's eyes only once, and it had been enough. Ector should be glad his fangs weren't coming out.

"This building is specially equipped to let me shift. If you have a problem with it, take it up with the government. I have to stay here." Murtagh shoved his hands into his pockets. "Believe me, I'd rather live anywhere else."

When he shouldered his way out of the building, Ector wisely didn't try to stop him.

He desperately tried not to think about how Ector had found out what he was.

-;-

Somehow, Murtagh found himself on the street leading to Angela's shop. He didn't know why his feet had carried him there; only that they had.

He found a bench on the other side of the street and sat down. Her shop was just close enough that he could read the writing on the window.

Murtagh wanted to shake his head. The shop was old; he could see that. The writing underneath the flowy, fading script was new. These days all shops owned by magical personnel had to have government approval.

On one hand, he understood. On the other, he wanted to scream at them. They didn't know a flying fuck about magic, about creatures, and yet they judged them all. They thought they knew how to control them, but most of all they thought they had the right to even try.

The shop had probably been started by someone in Angela's family. Now she needed a special permit to even live on the land she owned.

Just like Murtagh.

It felt like something was stabbing his insides. Murtagh didn't need to look to know what emotion it was. He stood, slowly, and shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

When he looked back at the window, there was a boy looking back at him. The boy's nose was pressed against the window. Once he saw that Murtagh was looking, he pulled back his lips and sneered.

Murtagh almost felt like smiling. "Hello Sol."

The boy pulled back from the window and hissed at him. Murtagh could almost hear it.

When he walked back, he didn't feel better, but at least he didn't feel any worse.

-;-

Murtagh knew how well sound carried in the building. Not even a week later, his mailbox was carefully sprayed with the cheerful message 'leave, dogshit' in capital letters. His name had been blacked-out and he could smell something vile seeping through the thin letter slot.

He didn't ask how they had found out it was him. Ector was no doubt at fault.

He considered, for a second only, to document it and send in a complaint. It was his right to live there. Because of his income, he couldn't live in any of the creature-only buildings. This was the cheapest one that wasn't an hour away from his work.

For a minute, he just stood there and allowed himself to feel violated. He hadn't been directly assaulted before. He wanted to savour it.

An hour later, he had disposed of the unknown powder and cleaned off his mail the best he could. There was a stack of letters written to him, without actually using his name. He didn't need to read them to know they all said something about wanting him to leave.

Two hours later, he had finally scrubbed the graffiti off of the mailbox. It was no point to contact the landlord; he would have made Murtagh scrub it off anyway.

Three hours later, he had installed a new lock on his door and pinned up a note on the board downstairs with the number to their local government representative.

He didn't sleep that night.

* * *

**A/N** Let it be known that I have never worked in a library, so I don't really know what one does around there. I'm just making this up as I go along.

I just want to underline, once again, that I will be talking about some serious issues in this story. It is not as nice as the first chapter might have made it seem. I know what you're thinking; the first chapter was hardly _nice._ How much worse can I make it?

Well, stick around and I'll show you. Because when I want to deal with issues in my stories, you better believe I'll really deal with them.

But that is all for now. Hope to see you again for chapter 3.

I will be adding vocabulary, for when it is needed, and special notes at the end of each chapter. There are things happening behind the scenes that might clear things up. I'll be adding this. Mostly I explain dynamics, new words and, possibly, how certain biases work.

**Special Author Notes: **

_Speciesist_- I saw this word used in fanfiction just recently, and it fit better than the word I originally had gone with. It is probably not a real word, but I needed a separate word to describe the prejudice Murtagh is talking about. It felt wrong to call someone who is pro-human (in a bad way) the same as someone who judges skin colours (aka, racist). Hence why I used this word, which empathises the fact that someone is judging someone based on their actual species rather than their skin tone.

_A drake tribe_ – I'm sure there are other things I could call a bunch of dragons (a flock, a herd, etc), but for all intents and purposes, this is what these drakes are; a tribe. Most of them live in smaller villages with only their kind or they have, like Thorn, integrated with society. But because your tribe is such a large part in a drake's life, Thorn does have to go back regularly, especially when it comes to selecting a mate.

_Alpha/Beta/Omega _– this is not the standard alpha/beta/omega scenario, if there is such a thing. An alpha is basically only dominant, a beta can be dominant or submissive and an omega is only submissive. What this means is that a beta, like Thorn, can either sire or bear children. It depends on who they mate with, an alpha or an omega. Drakes believe in equality, so apart from the chief and his family, no one is ranked below anyone else. They have total gender and sexuality equality.

_Hijo de puta_ – son of a bitch. A common Spanish curse phrase.

_Espera_ – stop. The word is bend in the form of Esperar that means he's basically saying "oi, you, stop!". Spanish.

_Puta madre_ – literally means whore of a mother, but it is, from what I remember, a common Spanish curse phrase. It can mean a lot of things, but all of them are derogatory.

_Mierda cara_ – shit face. Not sure if this is a common curse phrase or not. Correct me if I'm wrong. Spanish.

_Perro-follando_ – dog-fucker. This is most likely wrong, but I really wanted something that was a mix of fuck and dog, so I gambled and went for this. Correct me if I'm wrong or you have something better I could put in. Spanish.

_Mamá _– mama or mommy. Spanish.

_Culo_ – ass. Spanish.

_Perro _– Dog. Spanish.


	3. You May Be A Sinner

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Eragon or anything associated with the Inheritance Cycle. Story and chapter titles are from the song "Undisclosed Desires" by Muse.

**Claimer: ** I, SussieKitten, own this plot and the story. Borrow or steal my plot, my original characters (Aksel) or story and I will report you. I also own my version of Thorn/Saphira/Shruikan/Glaedr's human appearances.

**Warnings:** Slash/Yaoi – meaning guy x guy. Swearing or strong language. Femslash/Yuri – meaning hints of girl x girl. Het – meaning hints of boy x girl. Supernatural creatures – there will be mainly elves (immortals), dragons (drakes), dwarves, vampires and werewolves (weres) in this. Mentions of poisoning. Mentions of ill intentions towards humans and humanoid creatures. Obvious bias against humanoid species. Mentioned Mpreg – meaning male pregnancy people! If any of this disturbs you, click on the "back" button. I won't tolerate any flames.

**A/N** I'd like to thank everyone for their patience and their wonderful reviews. A special thanks to the guest reviewers, whom I haven't been able to thank in person. You guys all keep me going. :)

I'm sorry this took so long. I have had this chapter written for a while, but due to some structural changes in the story, I have been putting it off, to make sure there aren't any additional changes I want to make. For now, if nothing else, it seems good.

For those that have been craving more of Eragon in this; fear not, he appears here.

I will try to have the next chapter out a little quicker. Hopefully life will let me this time.

Also, please do read the warnings before you read the chapter. I throw some shockers out there on occasion, and it won't always be involve the people you think.

**Self-betaed. You have been warned.**

* * *

**Undisclosed Desires**

**Part Three; You May be a Sinner**

Murtagh was stuck trying to fix one of the computers. Carn, the only other person on staff that hadn't _suddenly _disappeared, could only operate computers on a basic level. That left Murtagh to deal with the stupid machine that a student claimed "won't, like, go online, dude".

Vanir, of course, had gone AWOL as soon as Aksel had stumbled into the library. Murtagh was very tempted to have a long and detailed conversation with him, mainly involving the ways he could rip out Vanir's throat with his teeth.

It was possible that Murtagh was annoyed because of the approaching full moon, but he tried not to dwell on it. He focused instead on the ancient machine and tried not to curse too loudly at the school's inability to buy upgraded gear.

He imagined that his ears perked up when he heard a familiar laugh close by. It was enough to amuse him for a short while, until he realised the laughter was getting closer.

"I'm really not sure that's a good look for you, Aksel."

Murtagh looked up in time to see the trio walk into the room. Aksel was pouting and, what was that, had he _actually_ dyed the tips of his hair black and green?

"But Aggie," Aksel whined. "I think it looks cool."

The girl rolled her eyes and walked over to one of the computers. Her eyes met his, briefly, enough for Murtagh to see that hers matched the colour her hair almost perfectly. If he hadn't known better, he could have sworn her pupils contracted like a cat's.

"You don't get a vote," Eragon answered and walked over to their female companion.

"I think you look cute, Aksel," she said as she clicked away at the keyboard.

Murtagh looked away and tried to get the damn internet to work.

"Thanks, Saph!" Murtagh could practically picture his beam. "Wha – hey! Cute?!"

The smirk was practically audible. "Yes, cute."

"You wound me, Saphira."

Murtagh looked up briefly, enough to meet the Eragon's brown, brown eyes. Eragon blushed, his cheeks almost lighting up, before looking away quickly. There was something about him, Murtagh realised suddenly. The kid wasn't his mate, but something about him tickled his senses, he just didn't know what it was.

Murtagh brushed it all aside. He focused on Eragon's companions instead. Saphira wasn't that common of a name, not that Murtagh was an expert. This Saphira was starting to look more and more like the one Thorn had talked about.

"It's only because I love you," Saphira answered.

"Then how come ya only make stabs at me?"

"You know that's not true," she said. "I tease Eragon as well. Quite frequently, even."

"Leave me out of this," Eragon said quickly. "Weren't you going to check the schedule for tomorrow?"

"I am," she said, amused. "But someone sure looks eager to leave."

"_Saphira_," Eragon hissed.

Murtagh brought up the firewall and poked at it. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the three of them looking his way.

Suddenly he was very aware of his tired, baggy clothes and even more tired appearance. Then, just as suddenly, it was gone.

"I told ya your type was tall, dark an' handsome," Aksel said smugly, and probably a bit too loudly, judging by Eragon's protests.

"I hate you guys," Eragon said and walked out.

Murtagh listened to the other two leaving, laughing quietly to themselves. Well, Saphira was doing it quietly. Aksel probably couldn't stay quiet even if he tried.

A few minutes later he had fixed the problem. Apparently some fool had managed to make the firewall block the internet access. The trio's table was empty, a small stack of books the only proof they had even been there.

-;-

They were at a new café. Murtagh didn't ask about the change of venue. It either was because of some stupid humans or some even _stupider_ humans. Considering the café was riddled with creatures of all kinds, Murtagh would bet on the latter.

"I spoke to Saphira," Thorn said, brushing some crumbs away from his cheek. "She's definitely the one you mentioned. She remembers seeing you."

Murtagh remembered meeting her eyes, the flash in them. Somehow he wasn't surprised he had been right.

"Do I want to know how you described me?" Murtagh drawled.

Thorn didn't even bother hiding his smirk. "Nope."

He rolled his eyes.

Nasuada shook her head at them both. "So, is she the one?"

Thorn grimaced. "It's not like that," he said. "We're allowed to talk to the others outside of the trials. I don't want to make any hasty suggestions."

"Why not? It's not like it's for life or anything."

Thorn shot him a look that let Murtagh know just how amused he was. Which was to say, not at all.

"How many have you spoken to?" she asked.

Thorn hid another grimace behind his drink. "It's not a contest."

"Then you should have no problem answering the lady's question."

Thorn shot him a look. He looked out of the huge windows; eyes flickering, throat swallowing around something.

"You don't have to answer," Nasuada said, gently, one hand on his shoulder.

"Only her."

She frowned.

Thorn licked his lips, still avoiding their eyes. "It's not uncommon. Most of us have already interacted before the mate trials."

Nasuada shook her head. "Thorn -"

"It's all right," he interrupted. "It's only my first year. There is an average of two couples a year. It's extremely rare for someone to get chosen in their first trial. The odds were always against me."

"That doesn't mean you aren't allowed to be disappointed if nothing happens," she said softly.

He smiled, the bitterness just enough to shine through. "Thanks."

Murtagh looked down at his food, wondering why he was suddenly no longer hungry.

Drakes were pack oriented, just like werewolves and their animal counterparts. And yet Murtagh had never had the urge to seek out other people. He kept to himself, willingly at that.

Thorn was younger than him, and already he wanted to branch out, start something, a family even, of his own.

If he felt jealous of Thorn, then it wasn't without reason.

-;-

The harassment didn't let up. Murtagh hadn't expected it to. They never broke into his apartment, but it didn't make him feel any safer.

His sleep, fitful as it had been, suffered. He started to feel weaker and hated himself for it.

A couple of times he found himself looking at apartment listings, but everything said the same. Unless he wanted to move all the way across town, commuting to get to work, he currently lived in the cheapest Being-approved building in the city. The other building looked nice, only had good reviews, but the same had been said for his current building. It was likely bullshit.

Unless he wanted to fork out his entire paycheck and then some, he wasn't moving anytime soon.

Ads flashed by, reminding him of several dating sites where he could meet 'people with similar interest'. One was even restricted to just Beings, telling him how many people met 'their one true match' every day.

Murtagh logged off and tried not to throw the laptop at the wall. It was hard, but he managed. Just.

-;-

There was someone new by the trio's table. He was tall, broad-shouldered and stayed close to Eragon. There was a vague similarity between them. As Murtagh watched, the guy ruffled Eragon's hair and smirked. Eragon let out a squawk and batted away the guy's hand.

Murtagh looked away, focused instead on trying to find the book he was looking for. Vanir swore it was in, but since it was one of _those days_, he couldn't possibly look for it himself.

Murtagh was seriously considering how he could introduce Vanir to his teeth without maiming him too much. This was getting out of hand. If he couldn't handle one measly fan just because he thought the guy was _human_ -

"- when's the big day, cuz?"

He paused, found his eyes wandering again. Eragon had spoken, seemingly to the new guy.

The guy rubbed the back of his neck and shifted his wait. "Soon. Real soon."

"I can't believe you're getting married," Saphira said, smiling.

"Well, he isn't yet," Eragon shot in. "He's got to actually ask her first. And she has to say yes to his sorry ass."

"Thanks for that, cousin." The guy grabbed Eragon in a head-lock and ruffled his hair beyond salvage. The shriek Eragon came with was loud enough that someone upstairs looked over the railing and down at the group.

They were definitely related, then. Murtagh shook his head and changed aisles. If the book really was in the children's section, he was going to find it, dammit.

"We are happy for you, though," Saphira said, ever the diplomat. "Say hello to Katrina the next time you see her."

"Will do," the guy answered. He paused. "It's a shame you can't get together with my cousin, Saphira. He could have used someone like you to keep him on the straight and narrow."

There were all sorts of sounds coming from Eragon. Murtagh wasn't sure how he'd even begin to describe them.

"Straight being the keyword," she said, laughing. "I'm sorry; he's a little too gay for me."

"And human, but bah," Aksel shot in. "Love is love, as Shakespeare said. Or somethin'."

Murtagh forced himself to focus and shut out the rest of their conversation. He looked up in time to see the guy leave. Their eyes met, briefly, before the guy looked away and headed out.

Murtagh finally found the novel he was looking for. He spared a second to lament that it wasn't thicker. Had it been, he would have found a great pleasure in throwing it at Vanir's head. The bastard deserved no less.

-;-

There were days when Murtagh found himself missing things he didn't normally miss. Every month he spent at least one week in near-constant pain and three weeks dreading said pain. When he wasn't being prodded by his friends, he was snarked at by Vanir. When he was at home, he was always in a constant state of awareness. It was rare for him to relax enough and recognise that he might have other needs than that to eat and sleep.

This time it was Nasuada's fault that it happened. She showed up at their weekly lunch, hair muzzled and lips plump. Her cheeks were just a tad darker than normal.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she said and quickly slid into the vacant chair.

Thorn looked almost amused. "It's all right. We only just arrived ourselves."

Murtagh tried to stay back, to not smell it, but the scent was still there on her skin. Under soap and a soft hint of perfume, he could smell another female and the aftertaste of sex.

"Someone got lucky last night," he drawled.

Nasuada blushed and hit him with her menu. "Shut up."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," he said and ducked before she could hit him again. "Even someone as virginal as Thorn has a libido. It's perfectly all right for you to have one as well."

Now they were both looking less than impressed. Murtagh didn't mind one bit. Their snark took his mind off the hot lead in his stomach.

Sometimes, but only sometimes, he longed for a mate or a pack to belong to. But the urge was always fleeting, there and gone. It never lasted more than a day, usually triggered whenever a particularly genuine couple came his way or when Nasuada actually looked happy after a night out on the town.

It didn't mean he liked it one bit.

"What's the mystery lover's name?"

"Murtagh," she hissed.

He only smirked.

"Let's talk about something else," she said firmly. "Thorn, how are your classes?"

Thorn looked like he was fighting between laughing and grimacing. "You need to work on your deflection skills."

She narrowed her eyes at him.

Murtagh allowed himself the time to observe them. One of Nasuada's hands was trying to flatten her hair while she steered the conversation onto another topic. Despite the embarrassment, there was a hint of contentment on her face. Her shoulders seemed more relaxed.

Thorn, on the other hand, seemed to get tenser and tenser. The words flowed past him. Murtagh didn't bother to pick them up, focused instead on the burning of Thorn's cheeks.

Nasuada's lips curled in triumph. There was laughter in her eyes as she gestured with her hands. Thorn visibly tried to get himself out of the conversation, and, judging by the building fake-terror, failed completely and utterly.

Murtagh watched them, pliant and happy, and _yearned._

It'll be over tomorrow, he told himself. His stupid wolf only longed for a place to belong for a day after it was hit with a sense of longing. Just one more day, then he'd be fine again.

"- a little help here, Murtagh?!"

Thorn's voice broke through the fog, but only barely. He schooled himself and plastered a well-practiced smirk on his face.

"Now, why would I do that? I'm having so much fun watching this fiasco unroll."

Thorn looked betrayed. Nasuada was laughing.

He yearned. He wanted. Why couldn't he have what they had? Why couldn't he be happy? Why -?

He shook himself. Just one more day, he reminded himself stubbornly. Just one more day.

-;-

It was the day before the full moon. Murtagh grabbed his things and went out to get the supplies he'd need in the following week.

He had made a habit of buying groceries and other assorted items in a few days before the full moon. These days it was imperative he kept the fridge stocked. He hadn't ordered delivery take-out in ages, not since Ector had outed him to the building. He didn't trust the other tenants enough to let them around anyone carrying food to his door. He was not above suspecting them of wanting to poison him.

Desperate times and all that, he thought bitterly.

The air was getting colder. The winter was just around the corner. It wouldn't surprise him if it started to snow soon.

Murtagh buttoned his coat and headed down the street. He hesitated when he saw Thorn and Saphira ahead.

They were just talking, from what he could tell. Saphira seemed impossibly small next to Thorn's much larger frame. As Murtagh watched, Saphira stroked his arm and said a few parting words. Thorn went in the other direction while Saphira turned his way.

Murtagh knew the instant she saw him. She tilted her head, like she was trying to place him.

Murtagh turned his collar up against the wind and carried on. If he was lucky, she wouldn't think much of him, or even remember him. Thorn was lousy at descriptions. Just because she had been able to identify him earlier didn't mean she still would.

"Murtagh, right?"

He stopped, wondering for a second if he could still flee.

"That's right," he said instead.

Saphira smiled softly; reminiscent of how she's been the last time he had seen her.

"Thorn told me about you," she said and pushed some hair behind her ear. Murtagh followed the motion, almost hypnotized. The colour was so different, in a way similar to Thorn's. It shimmered, layered and shaded just like normal hair. How he could have thought it was a dye-job, even from a distance, was beyond him.

"He told me about you too," he said and slid his hands into his pockets.

"You live around here?"

He briefly wondered where she lived. With the tribe or, like Thorn, in an all-Being complex? He couldn't picture her living in a building like he was forced to.

"You could say that."

Something flickered in her eyes, there and gone. It had looked oddly like surprise.

"Well, it was nice meeting you," he said.

She frowned minutely. "Yes," she agreed. She hesitated. "Do you think we could meet up and talk? Maybe the day after tomorrow?"

"No. No, that day is no good for me," he said, quickly. He wanted to leave before she could ask why. Though, why would she? "I work the first shift on Friday. We can meet up after. Is that good?"

"Friday is fine," Saphira said, still frowning slightly. "Well, see you then."

Murtagh nodded and walked past her.

He forced himself not to look back.

-;-

The full moon left him feeling tired to the point of exhaustion. Even with the tea, it took him almost four days before he was able to go back to work. Even his wolf had felt tired and drained. It was almost enough to make him start worrying.

However, nothing had stopped him from crawling upstairs as soon as the sun rose. The door was locked from the inside, but Murtagh didn't trust his fellow tenants. He recovered in his own apartment, every lock pulled tight and every curtain shut. No one stopped by, but that didn't stop him from sleeping fitfully.

He left for work far too early. He felt overly dressed and still too cold. The sweater was comfortable and the hoodie, just a touch too large, was warm. The scarf was in his bag, but Murtagh almost felt the need to go and get it. He kept the fingerless gloves and hoped they looked like a fashion-statement rather than anything else.

Murtagh silently congratulated himself for having told Saphira to come by that day. He wouldn't have been able to crawl out of his apartment the day before, and he knew it.

That didn't mean he was looking forward to seeing her. He didn't know why she wanted to talk anyway.

They had one thing in common; Thorn. Unless this somehow was about Thorn, he couldn't fathom what she wanted to talk about.

She showed up at the library around noon, alone. Vanir looked up, sharply, almost out of his seat already. She paid him no mind, walking to the usual table and sitting down. Murtagh crocked an eyebrow when she pulled tome after tome out of her seemingly bottomless bag. She spread them out, easily taking over half of the table's surface, then started to read.

Murtagh shot Vanir a look. He was by no means one of Aksel's pals, but Vanir needed to stop acting like an even bigger asshole than he normally was.

Vanir returned his gaze, a little narrowed, like he was trying to figure out what he had done to deserve the additional attention. Murtagh looked away and went back to his job. If Vanir didn't know what he was doing, then Murtagh sure as hell wasn't going to clue him in on it.

Saphira was still there when Murtagh officially clocked out at three. He grabbed his things and walked over.

She looked up, blinked, like she wasn't sure what he was doing there.

"You wanted to talk?"

She brushed some hair out of her eyes. "Yes, um." She hesitated, glanced between him and her books. "Do you have anywhere you need to be soon?"

"No." Nowhere but the dodgy apartment that he tried to avoid as much as possible.

"Let's go to the café." Saphira somehow managed to put everything into her impossibly small bag, then hefted it onto her shoulder. She didn't even stumble.

Murtagh had to remind himself this girl, this young woman, was a Drake. They were never as frail as they looked.

"Very well."

He felt her eyes on him the whole way there. He knew he looked like shit. These days he looked terrible about two weeks out of every month. There was no escaping it. Pushing their talk too far back might have led to questions; questions he didn't want to answer and didn't want her to ask.

"Are you all right?" she asked two minutes later, her back to the windows. Her hair looked like the colour of the sky when the sun hit it.

"I'm fine."

She pursed her lips.

"You didn't come here to talk about me," he said. It had to be Thorn. Saphira didn't know him. There was no way she'd asked to talk to him because she was concerned about a stranger's health.

"No," she admitted. "I wanted to talk to you about Thorn."

Murtagh looked away to accept the mug of hot water he'd ordered. His hands shook only slightly as grabbed the paper-bag he stored Angela's tea in. It made the whole ordeal look slightly more innocuous, if nothing else.

"What about him?"

She bit her lip. "How much has he told you about what he is?"

Ah. Murtagh could sense where this was going. He tugged at the string of the bag to keep his hands occupied. "As much as he's felt comfortable with. If you really want to know, you should talk to Nasuada. Nasuada Black. She's, well, not as annoying as I can be sometimes."

The corner of her mouth twitched. "He mentioned you three were good friends. He also mentioned that you could be, well, very _you_, for the lack of a better word."

Murtagh removed the teabag and stirred the golden liquid. "And yet you asked to see me."

"I can tell you mean a lot to him, and as much as you three are close, I know you're closer than she is. No offense meant to either you or her," she said quickly. "And, no offense meant to her, but there are just some things that a fellow Being can understand better than a human."

He looked up sharply, knew the lines of his face were tight with panic.

She looked embarrassed. "I normally wouldn't pry or assume, but it was staring me in the face."

There was a lump in his throat that he couldn't quite swallow around. "I assure you, I don't know what you're talking about."

She snorted quickly, clearly a reflex. "The lie would have been more convincing if you didn't look like I just announced my plans to assassinate you." There was a pause. The lines on her face softened. "I know Thorn doesn't know."

"Why, because he would have introduced me as his werewolf friend if he had?"

Saphira shook her head. "Because there are a lot of things he wouldn't have said if he knew."

Murtagh gripped the mug hard. He stopped before he could break it. "Well, let's keep it that way, shall we?" He powered on before she could say anything else. "You were saying about Thorn?"

He saw the moment she let it go, unhappy as she was about it. "I know Thorn," she began. "For a first year beta, he's unusually ready for a mate. I just wanted to ask you to be kind with him, if nothing happens this year."

The shaking in his hands didn't stop, even after he'd drained half of the mug. "What makes you say that?"

"I've already gotten two, well, admirers, I suppose you could say," she said, oddly shy in her own way. "It's very rare, but it happens. I intend to accept one of the proposals."

"From what Thorn has told us, it's the submissive's task to actually issue the challenge, isn't it?"

"It is. But two males have already given me the impression that they find me...suitable," she said, hesitating. "One to two couples every year is generally the norm -"

"Thorn's said as much," he shot in.

She gave him a weak smile. "- and another couple has already finished the trials. They came back from the flight yesterday."

Suddenly it was all clear. "You're afraid Thorn won't get chosen this year and that he'll be broken up about it."

Another smile, this one relieved but still sad. "Exactly."

He had to ask. "You're younger than Thorn, though, aren't you? He only got his tattoo earlier this year."

"I turned eighteen back in February," she said. "It's different for males and females. A female is generally ready to mate already at sixteen, but they push it off to give us time to finish maturing, so that the pregnancy will go smoother." She fiddled with one of her sleeves. "The males aren't mature until they're twenty-one, like Thorn. Children aren't an issue, as even male betas can produce offspring longer than a female."

Even though he had known that for years, Murtagh still couldn't quite wrap his head around it. Thorn, _the _tallest guy he knew, muscled like some strong and sleek animal of prey, could potentially end up pregnant. It was a hard thing to imagine.

"I have a strong suspicion that someone is eyeing Thorn, but," she shook her head, "he's stubborn."

"An alpha?" he guessed.

Saphira nodded. "His teacher, actually." She quickly clapped a hand over her mouth. "Forget I said anything. I'm not supposed to know."

Murtagh frowned. Thorn hadn't said anything about a teacher. He told her as much.

Saphira visibly relaxed. "When we're younger, an older member is assigned to educate us in the ways of the tribe. They teach us the ranks, etiquette, how to fly..." she trailed off. "Promise me you won't tell him. If nothing happens, things will be strained. Thorn shows up seldom enough as it is. It won't do if he's completely absent from out meets."

"I promise."

What was one more secret, anyway? Besides, he didn't know the guy's name. He was likelier to forget about it than accidentally mention it.

"I'll keep your secret as well," she promised. "Even though I think you should tell him. He wouldn't go ranting about you not understanding his plight anymore, that's for sure."

Murtagh just rolled his eyes.

-;-

Later, when they were leaving the library, he couldn't stop himself from asking.

"How did you know?"

Saphira stopped, looked back at him. Her other hand came up to adjust the strap of her bag.

"I could see it in your eyes," she said, soft and almost sad. "A few of my classmates are wolves. They look a bit like you around the full moon. I wasn't sure, but..." She looked down briefly, focusing on something he couldn't guess before looking away again. "The tea was what sealed it. I did a project once with a wolf, and she drank that. It has a very distinct odour, if you know to look for it."

Murtagh knew there had to be werewolves all over, but it was weird to actually know that there were a couple in the area. He had never personally run into anyone.

He supposed that, if they were students, they had speciality dorms that they lived in. There certainly weren't a lot of other creatures in his complex. Murtagh would have known if there had been. Maybe they lived in buildings similar to Thorn's.

He didn't really care. Murtagh had Thorn and Nasuada; he didn't feel any need to associate with anyone else, be they creature or human.

Saphira said his name, and suddenly he remembered that he was actually talking to someone. When he looked her way, he could see that she was clearly hesitating. Whatever she wanted to say, it wasn't easy for her.

"Do you really live around Terminal Street?"

Murtagh wasn't entirely prepared for her question, but he still knew what he was going to say to that. Nothing. "It was nice talking to you. I'll try to keep Thorn's spirits up."

He left before she could say anything else.

* * *

**A/N** Before you start throwing things at me; hear me out.

I just hinted that Eragon isn't Murtagh's mate. I know this is not my usual set-up, but sometimes I actually do write other pairings. I already know who Murtagh's mate is, but I'm not going to say who. I will say this, though; it is a man.

That doesn't mean Eragon won't be important. Believe me, he is; just not the way you might have originally thought.

As always, for those that feel like hearing more about me and my story processes, head on over to Tumblr and check me out. Predictably, you can find me under _sussiekitten_. lol.

That is all for now. Until next time, guys.


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